Critical thinking
Nov. 30th, 2002 12:02 amand if you see her reflection on the snow covered hills, maybe you should lay off the cocaine for a while
Stevie Nicks on the radio in the car. Ack.
Take her love. Take it down. Take it far, far away. Go be a mystic creature of wonder and loveliness somewhere else. Any elsewhere. Dance witchily the fuck away from, well, me. Go little Stevie, quickly quickly, when you're near I'm sickly sickly, go to Butte or Nutley Nutley don't care where just leave abruptly Go little Stevie go.
apologies to Mad Magazine.
In other news...
We're watching Bells are Ringing. Severely underrated, I think. Her Majesty (we took a really long nap. She'll sleep in the car. Mind your own business) and she's into it and I'm into it but we just watched the Pirate and
Vincente Minelli. What the hell were you thinking?
Now, I'll grant you, it would be damn near impossible to be face to face, as it were, with Gene Kelly's butt (here's an imponderable: Gene Kelly's butt vs. the Nicholas Brothers' butts: comparative awesomeness: advantage who? Don't know. Torn. I do know that Gene Kelly's tailor should have won several Nobel Prizes and a few Pulitzers and given that, I suspect that the Nicholas brothers should have a few extra ounces added to their weighted average, but I'm not good on the really big questions so I'll just offer the general concept for discussion) and keep your faculties at full pitch but damn, buddy, that was no lady, that was your _wife_. It's just rude to pay more loving attention to Gene Kelly's crotch than to your wife's face.
No, I'm sorry, it is.
Who is Handel? Hialeah! Hialeah!
It's a long story. Have a good night, kids.
Stevie Nicks on the radio in the car. Ack.
Take her love. Take it down. Take it far, far away. Go be a mystic creature of wonder and loveliness somewhere else. Any elsewhere. Dance witchily the fuck away from, well, me. Go little Stevie, quickly quickly, when you're near I'm sickly sickly, go to Butte or Nutley Nutley don't care where just leave abruptly Go little Stevie go.
apologies to Mad Magazine.
In other news...
We're watching Bells are Ringing. Severely underrated, I think. Her Majesty (we took a really long nap. She'll sleep in the car. Mind your own business) and she's into it and I'm into it but we just watched the Pirate and
Vincente Minelli. What the hell were you thinking?
Now, I'll grant you, it would be damn near impossible to be face to face, as it were, with Gene Kelly's butt (here's an imponderable: Gene Kelly's butt vs. the Nicholas Brothers' butts: comparative awesomeness: advantage who? Don't know. Torn. I do know that Gene Kelly's tailor should have won several Nobel Prizes and a few Pulitzers and given that, I suspect that the Nicholas brothers should have a few extra ounces added to their weighted average, but I'm not good on the really big questions so I'll just offer the general concept for discussion) and keep your faculties at full pitch but damn, buddy, that was no lady, that was your _wife_. It's just rude to pay more loving attention to Gene Kelly's crotch than to your wife's face.
No, I'm sorry, it is.
Who is Handel? Hialeah! Hialeah!
It's a long story. Have a good night, kids.